There's More To It
by Tracie1
Summary: Originally a one shot, now a series of NT 2 vignettes with Ben and Riley's friendship as the backdrop. Ch. 5 up, from Ben's POV.
1. There's More To It

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Sorry I've been MIA for a while, but it's been a busy couple of months. Rest assured that I have not forgotten about It's All Relative. Between the constant overtime at work and prepping for the holidays, I haven't had the time to really delve into writing and revising. Now that I'm on vacation for the next week and a half, I should be able to get something to my beta and, hopefully, have a chapter or two to post in the near future.

For now, I present a short piece that I wrote this one night when I was stuck on IAR. At this point, I don't know if this will be a stand alone piece or the first in a series. Time will tell.

**There's More To It**

Ben frowned at the side of Riley's head as the two waited to board their flight at the Charles de Gaulle airport. His young friend had been unusually withdrawn since their excursion to find Laboulaye's clue. Ben didn't get it. When they headed to the park, Riley had seemed excited, exuberant. Now, he seemed subdued, almost sullen.

"What's up?" Ben asked. Knowing Riley, this could be like pulling teeth. His friend wasn't forthcoming when something truly bothered him.

"The ceiling," Riley replied, never looking up from his laptop. "And, above that, you can find the sky. It's a lovely shade of robin's egg blue, today." The sarcasm dripping from his voice made Ben wince. It was a bit much, even for Riley, a self-proclaimed member of the National Sarcasm Society.

"Look, if it's about that citation, I said I was sorry. We'll square it once we're back home."

Riley wore a peculiar expression on his face, but he still didn't look at Ben. "It's okay, Ben, I can deal with it."

"But, it's my fault you were ticketed. Besides, you aren't exactly rolling in money right now."

Riley stiffened and Ben knew he'd hit a nerve. "I am not so destitute that I can't pay a simple ticket," he growled.

Ben furrowed his brow in concern. "Riley, you're not acting like yourself. Did I do something to offend you?"

Riley's body visibly stiffened, but his eyes betrayed nothing. "You haven't done anything of the sort, Ben."

"Are you having second thoughts about helping me clear my ancestor's name?"

That got Riley's attention. He looked up from his laptop, his deep blue eyes narrowed in confusion. "What made you go there?"

"Ever since we ran in to those French police officers, you have been acting strangely. I wondered if, maybe, you had changed your mind about this whole thing."

"Ben, give me a little credit. If I didn't want to help you, I would have said so back in Washington." He closed his laptop, emitting a weary sigh as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm just tired. We've been travelling non-stop since hopping on the plane to come here. I'll be more sociable when I finally get some rest."

Ben nodded, but he didn't quite buy Riley's excuse. Riley could run on tired like some cars could run on an empty gas tank. Nope, maybe the fatigue was a contributing factor, but he couldn't place the burden of blame squarely on it. He bit his lip, almost not daring to ask his friend the one question that had been bugging him since they had left the park, but he knew he wouldn't be content unless he did.

"Riley, when I asked you how long it would take us to get to Buckingham Palace," he could see the younger man bristle, "and you told me to ask my new best friend, what in God's name did you mean by that?"

That peculiar expression returned and Riley's blue eyes lost their luster for, maybe, a half second. As suddenly as it appeared, this ghost of discontent had vanished leaving Ben to wonder if he'd seen it at all.

"I told you, I'm just tired. It was just a passing remark. I have a tendency to say stupid stuff when I'm tired. You, of all people, know that."

Ben did indeed know that, but that didn't explain this. Usually, when Riley said something dumb, he knew he was doing it and he did it to get a reaction. When he got tired, he tended to get even sillier and this game provided him a source of amusement, even if those around him wanted to duct tape his mouth shut.

That moment in the park had been different. There wasn't a trace of amusement in Riley's eyes, only hollowness and his voice had been flat. However, what had really made Ben snap to attention was the crushed look on his friend's face, like he had physically landed a sucker punch in his stomach. The worst part about it was that Ben had no clue what he had said or did to make Riley react that way. Given the amount of time the two had been friends, he was beyond disgusted with himself. He shouldn't have to think about what had possibly upset Riley. He should _know_.

Ben looked at the seemingly placid expression on Riley's face. On the surface, it might look like nothing was wrong with his friend. Ben's frown deepened. With Riley there was always more under the surface.

"Keep staring. I might do a trick."

Ben's face flushed. He hadn't meant to stare. "Sorry." He sat back in his seat and sighed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the airport loudspeaker cut him off.

A woman's voice with an impossibly thick French accent announced, "Flight 435 to London, England, now boarding first class passengers." The message was then repeated in French.

Ben didn't have a chance to think about saying what was on the tip of his tongue as Riley was out of his seat like a shot, having already shoved his laptop into his carry-on bag. He walked briskly quickly over to the ticket agent, handed her his ticket and disappeared into the corridor that led to the plane.

Ben sighed, frustrated that he had just lost his window of opportunity to talk to his friend. He knew that once Riley was settled into his seat, he would have his IPod blaring loud enough to shatter his eardrums and those of the people sitting around him. This conversation was as good as dead and Ben didn't know when or if it would be resurrected.

As Ben handed his ticket to the agent and boarded the plane, he made a promise to himself. When he cleared his family's name, again, he would take the time to get to know Riley better. He wouldn't lose touch with his friend like he had after the discovery of the Templar's treasure. No, he would finally step up and be the kind of friend that he should already be. The kind of friend that would be able to read Riley like a book and know what was going on his head at that precise moment.

Ben glanced at Riley as he took his seat and, sure enough, Riley's IPod was blasting something with a heavy guitar riff. He had a far away look in his eyes, but otherwise he appeared as contented and carefree as any other passenger on that plane. Ben didn't buy it for a second. He touched Riley's shoulder. Riley startled, then looked at Ben with an air of annoyance.

"What?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" _Wow, Gates, that's all you've got? How lame is that?_

Riley sighed exasperatedly, clearly sick of the persistent questioning. "Yes, Ben, I am fine. Now, drop it." His voice was short and clipped, a warning to Ben that he shouldn't tread any further. Riley continued to stare intently out the small window and Ben knew Riley was just stubborn enough to maintain that pose for the duration of the flight.

Ben sighed as he sat back in his seat. It would be impossible to get answers from Riley, now.

_Let Operation Cold Shoulder commence_, he thought bitterly.


	2. What Do I Keep Working For?

**A little note from the authoress:**

Thank you for the reviews! Feedback is always appreciated!

This little snippet came to me at the same time as _There's More To It_. When Patrick and Ben enter the dining room after their conversation, so Ben can tell Riley the key word for the playfair cipher, Riley looks a bit dejected (at least, to me). Now, it could very well have been fatigue from staring at the computer so long, but that's not angsty enough for this crowd. Therefore, I have written in some angst. Some of it, actually, was pulled from discarded ideas for IAR.

Oh, speaking of which, those next chapters are with my beta, at the moment. Progress is good.

Do I really need to write in the disclaimer? Y'all know I don't own anything here. If I did, well, maybe I should keep that thought to myself.

On to the story!

**What Do I Keep Working For?**

_Earlier, in Patrick Gates' dining room…_

"Keep working."

If I were in my normal, snarky mood, I might don my best Igor impersonation and reply with a snarky, "Yes, master." However, my heart is just not in it.

Forgive me for deviating from my task to express an inkling of concern for your father, Ben. What could I have been thinking? Oh, that's right. I thought I was asking as a _friend_.

Besides, what do you think I've been doing all day? I am not in your father's house, because I'm enthralled with the architecture. I've typed in every five-letter word I can think of to no avail and you have the unadulterated nerve to tell me to, "Keep working." How about, "Thank you," or something that might acknowledge the effort I've put into this. I know those words are in your vocabulary. I've heard you use them before. However, you never seem to be able to use them with me.

It's an annoying habit of yours, one that grows more annoying the longer I know you. You don't ask me to do things for you, you tell me. Most of the time, I let it slide. After all, friends help each other. That's the way of it. Nevertheless, there are times when it irks me and this is one of those times.

It doesn't help your case that I haven't seen or heard from you in a year. Then, you show up on my doorstep, unannounced, wanting a favor. No, that's okay, Ben. I'm fine. This year has been absolutely splendid. Thanks for asking.

Oh, that's right. You didn't.

Yeah, I guess I could have contacted you, too. Wait a minute! I seem to recall that I tried to call you a few times. When my calls kept going to voice mail, I tried e-mail. You answered one e-mail and I never got replies to the rest. I placed the ball in your court and gave up. I mean, you had your new, attractive girlfriend whose hip you were surgically attached to. It was obvious to me that I was a fifth wheel.

No, a birthday card and Christmas card signed from both of you in Abi's handwriting does not count as staying in touch. Actually, the only people on a card list are those you _don't_ contact on a regular basis, like you're trying to assuage some guilt.

So, why do I put up with you and your annoying obliviousness? It's quite simple, really. Having an imperfect friend is still better than having no one at all. Ben, you can be completely oblivious to the human condition, but I guess you still possess some merit. After all, you didn't immediately cast me out of your life after the Templar's treasure discovery.

You could stand to extract your head from your ass, though. You've let that fame get to your head. Maybe your proctologist can help with that.

Of course, my cynical nature wonders if you would have looked me up at all had you not needed me to break into your house. If you didn't need this cypher decoded so desperately, would I be sitting here, now? Or would another year or two have gone by? Seriously, people aren't like your musty books. They won't wait around for you to decide you want to acknowledge them.

I want to believe we're still friends like we used to be, but you're making it difficult. Also, while I know you can be one-track minded, you could put the welfare of someone else before your own. Yes, I know you're wrapped up in this Thomas Gates conspiracy, but would it kill you to at least mention my book? You know, the one I sent you two months ago? You weren't reading it on my doorstep, so I can assume you've already read it. So, what is stopping you from bringing it up?

If you're merely trying to spare my feelings, you can save it. My feelings haven't been a consideration thus far in this hunt. Hell, you couldn't even vouch for me when Conner called me your sidekick. Therefore, I can't help but think there's a part of you that believes it to some degree and that hurts. I thought I was more to you than just your go-to technology whiz.

I rest my chin on my hand with an aggrieved sigh. As aggravated as I am, I doubt I would ever summon the courage to any of this to your face. Why risk trouble? It's bad enough that I hear from you so rarely. Still, seldom is better than never and, if you haven't noticed, Ben, I am not exactly rolling in friends.

I try to delude myself into thinking I'm an introvert and I don't need people in my life. That is partially true, but I can't survive solely on my own. Maybe you aren't around, but I know you're there, somewhere. If I were to tell you everything that's on my mind at this moment, Ben, you wouldn't see your fault in it. You would get angry and you would be gone. I've been totally alone before and it's something that I never want to experience again.

"Try death!"

Huh? I look up to see you stride into the room with Patrick fast on your heels. Obviously this is the product of a conversation I was not privy to. Jeez, for all the sense your request made, why not just bark, "Try Albuquerque!"

"The debt that all men pay is death," Ben rambled.

Okay, I'm still confused. There is a big part of this story that I'm missing. This is why I have long stopped trying to analyze your thought processes. They just makes my brain hurt, kind of in the same way that eating ice cream too fast gives you a brain freeze headache.

Plus, you could ask me to do something once in a while. I'm not your dog.

Well, what do you know? The word actually worked. Of course, it brought up the name of some historical figure that only makes sense to you and your father, but that is par for the course. You're happy and Patrick is happy. That thank you? I guess I'll take an I.O.U., as usual. This is certainly a Gates family moment and I appear to be merely an intruding bystander.

Regardless of my present feelings, I'll continue to help you in this hunt, Ben. Friends keep their promises. When this mystery is solved, I hope that we are still friends, no matter how flawed and that you won't disappear from my life for another year.

Then again, hope springs eternal.


	3. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Words from the authoress:**

I figured I should post something as I haven't had any fresh material since January. Yikes! Don't worry, though _IAR_ fans. I merely had to walk away from that fic for a little while. Currently, I have several drafts of the next chapter plotted out and the whole thing is beginning to resemble one of those _Choose Your Own Adventure_ books. Before anyone asks, no, I'm not writing one of those.

This story is set in The Savoy, after Ben's phone conversation with Patrick. By the end of this scene, I had noticed a slight, albeit, disturbing trend developing. Each time Riley inquires of Patrick's welfare, Ben brushes him off or ignores him. It seems like he's trying to reach out, but Ben is completely oblivious, too focused on the matter at hand to see past the end of his nose.

Now, you might expect me to say that this story is written from Riley's perspective. However, you would be wrong. I decided to write this from Ben's POV. I wanted him to sense something was amiss and not have the slightest idea as to its cause or what to do about it. In a way, it's an extension of the first vignette.

As per my usual, I don't own any of the NT characters. In fact, I don't own anything in this fic except for the Great Pizza Topping Debate and that might belong to the world, for all I know.

Now, on to the story!

**One Step Forward, Two Steps Back**

_Enough is more than enough_, he thought as he sighed, agitated, through his nose. He lifted his reading glasses and rubbed his tired eyes with his free hand as if the motion might also wipe away the discontent gnawing at his mind. He replaced his glasses on his face and watched over his friend's shoulder as the younger man's hands flew over the small laptop's keyboard. However, it wasn't the content on the computer screen, nor the covert plans for their caper that made Ben Gates so uneasy.

He glanced down at the top of Riley's head and frowned. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he wondered what was up with his best friend. The younger man hadn't spoken a word in several hours. He just sat, typing furiously, his iPod turned to such an ear-shattering level that Ben could actually hear the lyrics stream from the tiny earbuds. That couldn't be healthy and there was no way Riley needed his music that loud to concentrate. Like on the plane from Paris, it was a pointed maneuver to shut Ben out.

Ben was befuddled. Why was Riley giving him the cold shoulder for this time?

Ben went through the events in his mind, starting when the plane landed at Heathrow Airport. As the two waited in line in Customs, Riley had broken his first silent streak by whining incessantly about the line's length, how long everything was taking and the rough way in which the inspector had handled his luggage and the items inside.

Upon leaving the airport, they rented a car and drove the eighteen miles to the Savoy. They had even been decently conversational toward one another, like the whole incident in Paris had never happened. Ben wasn't sure if he was reassured or disturbed by that fact

When they got to the hotel and got their suite, they got to work straight away on their plans to break into the study. It was then that Ben got the phone call from his dad. He thought he remembered Riley saying something to him, but he had been too mired with worry about his father's welfare to hear what it was.

That phone call had been the pivot point, he realized, because he had noticed Riley's mood shift shortly thereafter. The younger man had grown almost sullen. He had busied himself with the intricacies of their plan, his earbuds planted firmly in his ears and his iPod turned to maximum volume. While it wasn't unlike Riley to be absorbed in his work, it was uncharacteristic of him to be so quiet about it for so long.

Ben couldn't figure it out. He hadn't said or done anything to offend him, at least he didn't think so. Then again, he was operating on a distinct lack of sleep, as well, and not firing on all cylinders. Suffice it to say he could have missed something that would otherwise have been blatantly obvious.

However, they couldn't keep going on like this. They had to work together and that meant that they had to speak to each other. He was determined to make the Riley talk to him one way or another. Ben reached over and removed an earbud from his friend's ear and let it drop past his shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

Riley whirled around in his chair, glaring, annoyed from the interruption to his work and the blatant intrusion to his personal space. "No, actually. I've heard enough horror stories about the English cuisine to inspire me to pass. I'll wait until we're back on the plane. At least, then, I might be able to obtain something that resembles food and isn't given a name resembling a diseased aspect of the human anatomy."

Ben smiled, somewhat relieved, but that was short lived as Riley took the moment of silence as an opportunity to grab the loose earbud and slip it back into place, thus evading the imminent interrogation. Ben gritted his teeth, hissing a sigh through them. He was sorely tempted to lay waste to the infernal contraption that made his attempt at discussion impossible. With the eerily pleasant thought of drowning an iPod in the Thames dancing in his mind, he tapped Riley on the shoulder.

The younger man looked up from his laptop to him with an expression of utmost annoyance and paused his music player. "Have I ever told you the story about the old, annoying man, the kick-ass song and the pit of eternal flame?"

Ben gritted his teeth, but chose to ignore the crack at his age. He had to keep this civil. "I was thinking about scaring up a pizza shop."

Riley, however, shook his head emphatically. "Not if you're picking the toppings. Who eats olives and anchovies on their pizza, anyway?"

"I can't say I'm crazy about pineapple, either," Ben countered.

"I'm afraid we've hit an impasse, then," Riley said, drily as music, again flowed from the tiny speakers and he focused his attention on his work.

Ben sighed. _Around and around we go._ "Pepperoni," he shouted, but he had to stand an inch from Riley's ear to hope to be heard. "That won't offend your sensibilities, will it?"

There was a pause, before Riley's almost whispered response. "Guess not, Anchovy Man."

Ben nodded, but he frowned on the inside. What had that been about? Ben had only heard that tone used once. They had been under the Trinity Church in the false treasure room and Riley had made the remark about someone else finding the treasure first.

Ben moved to Riley side and looked at his face. There was a distant far-away look in his friend's eyes as he worked, like he wasn't really seeing what he was looking at. There was a sadness there that Ben wasn't accustomed to seeing and his worry grew. What the Hell was going on?

Ben reached over and, again, plucked the earbud from Riley's left ear. "If I had done something to offend you, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

Riley raised his head, looking at Ben questioningly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Riley turned down the volume on his iPod. "You already asked me that and I gave you my answer. You didn't do anything.'

"Then, what's up with you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

_Like Hell you don't._ "Riley, you aren't acting like yourself and I can't help but feel that I had something to do with it. I mean, you told me you were cool with helping me with this. I hope you weren't lying to me."

"No, no it's not that. I told you before that I wanted to help and I meant that." Riley shifted in his chair, either uncomfortable from his slumped posture or the direction their conversation had taken. "I'm just thinking about stuff."

"Like the IRS?" Ben probed. He knew that Riley faced some hard consequences due to his accountant's shady practices. Not only was Riley's home being sold out from under him, but there was talk of him serving jail time. Ben wished he could help, but his remaining funds only covered half of what Riley owed. Besides, he didn't even have a new place, yet, let alone somewhere for Riley to stay until he got back on his feet. Somehow, he doubted that his father would be enthralled at the prospect of taking on another long-term houseguest.

"Among other things."

Ben's frown deepened. "What things?"

Riley sighed. For a moment, he looked like he might reveal what was weighing so heavily on his mind. Then, he shook his head. "Nothing important," he said with an obviously forced half smile. "Now, if you'll please, let me get back to work. At this stage, Interpol could easily intercept you and you would be the topic of an international incident."

"Well, you know how stealing the Declaration was merely a gateway crime," Ben quipped. He frowned at Riley's lack of a clever response as the younger man resumed damaging his cochleae with the heavy guitar riffs that emanated from the small music player. Usually, Riley would be all over such an open comment.

Ben couldn't quell the disquiet building in his mind. There was a distance between them that hadn't existed before, a chasm and it grew wider with each passing minute. The trouble was he had no idea how to fix it. His earlier confidence that he could just get Riley to open up about his feelings had eroded considerably. If their friendship hadn't possessed that dynamic before the rift, there was very little chance of establishing it, now.

"Jeez, Ben, what is with you!"

Ben startled out of his reverie to find a very annoyed Riley Poole staring at him. He had removed both earbuds and now stared at Ben, his bright, blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Ben blushed, fiercely. "W-what do you mean?"

"You have the worst staring problem lately. Is there something uniquely interesting about me that you would be willing to share? Is there a hair out of place? Do I have an alien growing out of my head? Seriously, I can _feel_ your eyes boring into my skull and it's creeping me out. You know, I hate being stared at. Knock it off!"

"I'm sorry, Riley. I guess I'm just a little worried about you." _Yeah, a little worried. If that isn't the understatement of the year, then I don't know what is._

Riley turned back to his computer. "There's nothing to worry about, Ben. I'm fine, the world's still turning and it's all good."

There was the slightest clip to Riley's voice, yet, Ben played his hand. Maybe, just maybe, he could make coercion work if he put a bit more effort into it. Still, he knew he walked an angel hair's width of a line between helping his friend and driving him away. "You keep saying that, but I can't quite bring myself to believe it."

"That's because you're reading way more into this than is necessary. Turn your brain off, Ben. It might appreciate the rest. Really, I can smell it burning."

_Ouch._ Ben was undeterred by Riley's barb. "Riley, I'm not joking. What's going on with you?"

"Wow, do you really find it necessary to address me like I'm a small child?"

Ben winced. Had he done that? He hadn't talked to Riley any differently than usual. There was something, a small clue clamoring for attention from somewhere in the back of his brain, but Ben was too focused on his main objective to pay that nagging voice much heed.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you're being so distant."

"I just don't feel like being a social butterfly, today. There's no law against that."

The venom in Riley's voice was the cue to drop the subject, but Ben pressed on. "I never said it was. It's just that you don't exactly possess a reputation for long, drawn-out silences."

Riley stiffened. "Funny, the new and exciting habits one can pick up when existing in near isolation for an extended period of time. After a while, silence is preferable to talking to yourself."

An uncomfortable silence descended on the pair and Riley's fingers had stopped their incessant typing, though they still rested, lightly, on the keys. His head was bowed. Ben highly suspected that his friend had never meant to utter those words. That thought only added to the sting he now felt, not because he was indignant, but because he knew Riley was one-hundred percent right.

He, Benjamin Franklin Gate, sucked as a friend, because he hadn't been one. His mind drifted back to Riley's face when he saw Ben sitting on his stoop. When they had locked eyes, there was the briefest glimmer of consternation on his friend's face. At the time, he had chalked it up to Riley having been at his car being towed, but, now that he saw it in a different context and he felt like a heel. He knew what Riley must have thought. A year and he only visited Riley when he needed something from him, despite the younger man's attempts to maintain contact. He was reminded of the old cliché, "Time waits for no man." That had never felt more true to him than now as he studied his friend. Riley's life had changed. _He_ had changed and Ben had totally missed the boat.

Ben sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I should have been better about staying in touch. I'm sorry."

Riley cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, forget about it. Stuff happens. That's just a fact of life. Besides, you know how it is when the friend gets a girlfriend. He drops completely off the Earth and you never see him again."

"That doesn't excuse it. I should have made time for both of you."

Riley chuckled. "Yeah, somehow I doubt that Abigail would have been keen on me tagging along on one of your dates. Dude, you can either have friends or a girlfriend. You can't have it both ways."

Ben smiled. "You know when we clear up this mystery and I get settled into a new place, we should hang out. We haven't done anything together as friends that hasn't involved a treasure hunt and I no longer have a girlfriend vying for my time."

Riley lifted his head and turned in his chair to look him. Ben had been expecting a snide remark, anything, but the look that haunted Riley's eyes. While the younger man's face was an expressionless mask, those sapphire eyes were sad, laced with marked disappointment. They bore the look of someone who had learned to not hope for what would never happen. Ben's confusion only grew. When had he ever given Riley the idea that he couldn't trust his word?

"Yeah, well, first things first," he replied before turning his attention solely back to the computer. He placed his earbuds back in his ears and, a moment later, the iPod again blasted away. That marked the end of the discussion, whether Ben liked it or not.

"You said something about pizza, right?" he shouted.

"Yeah," Ben said softly, knowing that Riley couldn't possibly hear him. He grabbed a phone directory from the desk and started flipping through it, looking for pizzerias close by. Finding one, he picked up the room's phone receiver and dialed the number.

"Hello. Let me ask, do you deliver to The Savoy hotel? You do? Excellent! Yes, I would like to order a large pizza. By chance, do you have pineapple?" Ben looked at the back of Riley's head as the younger man worked, oblivious to the conversation. "Great! I'd like to order a large pineapple and extra cheese pizza…"


	4. The More Things Change

**A quick note from the authoress:**

I know this update is a long time coming and I apologize wholeheartedly. Things were not supposed to lag so long, but life has just kept getting in the way. However, I hope to start making up for lost time.

_It's All Relative_ has not been forgotten. Rather, I am tackling it the way I should have in the first place. I'm writing and revising the rest of the story before I post another word. There will be an update, I just don't know when.

For now, you will have to make do with the vignettes. This isn't terribly involved, just a filler that I have purposefully left largely unchanged from the original notebook notes. It takes place right after the car chase through London, before the trio returns home. I hope you enjoy.

**The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same**

Another airport, another clue to explore and a major wrinkle in their covert plan in the blonde-haired, petite form of Dr. Abigail Chase.

Riley frowned. Why had she come? The last he knew, she had wanted nothing to do with Ben. Now, she seemed to be all over him, overtaken by the excitement of the prospect of another treasure hunt.

His frown only deepened as he watched the two, sitting across from him in an empty bank of orange seats. They conversed animatedly, no doubt, about what the latest clue might mean. Just because neither could read ancient Native American, didn't mean that speculation didn't abound.

Amid all these new developments, only one thing remained the same. Riley Poole, technological genius, was still part of the background, only paid any mind when a task needed to be done. Speaking of which, he had a half mind to stick that photograph from the London Police Department's database in a special place where only Ben's proctologist would find it.

He looked away from the nauseatingly eager couple and stared aimlessly at the other travelers hurrying past their gate, wincing at the throbbing in the side of his skull as he did so. That hit from the car chase had likely left a concussion in its wake. What was worse was that no one had seemed to notice. Sure, Ben had asked if, "everyone," was all right, but Riley suspected that, "everyone," meant Abigail. Naturally Ben had misinterpreted Abigail's lust for the hunt to be interest in him and focused on her accordingly.

So, Riley reasoned, maybe he should just step aside and leave the powerhouse couple to the treasure. They could easily find someone else to take care of the high-tech aspects if Abigail couldn't figure them out. Techies were a dime a dozen. They didn't need him. Hell, they didn't even _notice_ him three-quarters of the time.

He sighed. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't walk away. He had promised and he couldn't break a promise even under the threat of a firing squad. Also, if Ben's hunch was right, and the man's track record had been excellent, so far, then he needed whatever reward the search might yield. Otherwise, Riley knew he would be headed straight to jail for his accountant's financial indiscretions and he knew he wouldn't last five minutes. People like him didn't survive jail with their bodies and wits intact. Period.

A touch on his shoulder made him start and he glanced up to see Abigail looking down at him, her face showing considerable concern. "They're boarding. Didn't you hear the page?"

"Guess I zoned out for a minute," Riley replied as he stood up and picked up his backpack.

"You looked a bit upset. Are you okay?"

Abigail's worry sketched him out a little. He didn't feel comfortable confiding in Ben, let alone Ben's ex-girlfriend. Abigail was an acquaintance to him, a wrinkle in his life that he really didn't need. What if her appearance at Buckingham Palace had busted them all? More maddening, why hadn't Ben realized such a risk and listened to him when he'd said not to include her? Besides, with another person on the team, it was just another way to split any reward that might be found, lessening what he would be able to hand over to the IRS.

_Ugh!_ He hated that it had to be about money in any facet. Again. He swore money was like an anchor around his neck, dragging him down at every turn. However, that was his problem to bear. He gave Abigail a half smile.

"I just have a bit of a headache. I'll live."

Thankfully, Abigail didn't press further, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Try not to fall asleep on the plane. You're probably concussed."

"Yes, Mom," Riley answered drily. Abigail rolled her eyes at him, in return, and walked over to the ticket agent. Riley followed, handing the young man his ticket, as well, and boarded the plane. They took their seats, Abigail next to Ben and Riley two rows behind as they couldn't get three seats together. It was just as well, for Riley wasn't in the mood to chit chat. Too bad he'd had to sacrifice his I-Pod for the cause. He could really use it, right now.

A flight attendant offered him headphones, which he gladly accepted. He didn't care what the in-flight entertainment was, he just needed a distraction. Despite Abigail's advice, he planned on sleeping the whole way home. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. He had no more than placed the headphones snugly over his ears when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Annoyed, he lifted up one phone and frowned up at his friend.

"It looks like we have an empty seat next to us, after all," Ben said. "You're welcome to it."

"And put a monkey wrench in your attempt to rekindle romance? Sorry, but no one's stomach is strong enough to handle you two making googly eyes at each other."

Ben chuckled, but he turned serious instantaneously. "How's your head?"

"Still on my neck."

"No jokes, Riley, please."

"It's fine."

Ben nodded, but he was clearly unconvinced. "Get your stuff and come on up. I know you're planning on taking a long nap and that concussion I know you're lying about needs to be monitored."

"Do you guys share a brain? Is that why you're so good together?"

"The matter is not up for discussion, Mr. Poole."

Riley sighed and took his headphones off, though he wasn't wholly ungrateful for his friend's concern. Standing, he grabbed his backpack from the overhead compartment and walked up to the further row. He sat down next to Ben.

Abigail sat on the other side of Ben and looked over at Riley with a smile. "About time," she said. "We don't bite, you know."

"Not hard, anyway," Riley retorted. Abigail rolled her eyes, again, and returned to the magazine she was reading.

"Just like old times." Ben's grin stretched from ear to ear. "The team is back."

Riley smiled, for Ben's benefit, but he didn't feel as optimistic. He wanted to believe that things weren't as dire as they appeared. At the end of the day, he hoped he wouldn't be alone with no money, no future and no one to turn to.


	5. Getting Through

Hello, to all of you!

First, let me say, I know I'm horrible at keeping up with this thing and this has been a long time in coming. I'm sorry. I know IAR is lagging even further behind and I'm sorry about that, too. My life is so good at getting in the way of my art. Case in point, planning a wedding. Yeah, that's a time and energy sucker. It's hard to switch gears, sometimes.

Never mind the Hell that is IAR Chapter 10. I've lost count of the drafts.

As for this vignette, I'd had a few requests to write this over the last several years. The scene where Ben disses Riley's book seems to be a favorite among the fandom in terms of straining a shaky friendship. However, I have found that it's been written and rewritten several times over and I had a tough time making this version stand out. I think this is Draft #4, but don't quote me on that.

Now, for the tonality. It's dark. I know it's dark. It seemed to be the way to go if I didn't want to step on anyone's toes. I wanted a tie to IAR to match its overtone a little better. Likely, that's where these vignettes will head as it isn't too long after the movie universe ceases that IAR picks up. If you haven't guessed, I don't write fluffy feel-good stories.

On to the story!

GETTING THROUGH

Ben sat at his father's dining room table and took off his reading glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. He checked his watch. It read 12:45 a.m. Patrick and Abigail had long since retired for the night, but here Ben sat, unable to sleep. Instead he poured through books, trying to find any additional information about the President's secret book before he was to meet with Sadusky later that morning. He reasoned that if the senior FBI agent tried to talk around the subject, having some additional facts on his side might not hurt. However, the dusty volumes yielded nothing and Ben's brief, paltry attempt at a Google search using his father' computer had proved fruitless. So far, Riley had been the only one with any information about this mysterious book, whatsoever.

Ben sighed as he set his glasses on the table. Riley had been conspicuously absent the entire evening, citing a horrible onset of seasonal allergies as the reason. Ben knew better. Riley was avoiding him.

That had been his fault, hadn't it? While he hadn't any intention of ever reading his friend's book, the least he could have done was to make that fact a little less obvious.

"_You didn't even - open it?_"

The words kept replaying themselves in Ben's head and, each time, Ben swore that his friend had sounded a bit more hurt by the apparent obliviousness and the hitch in his voice became more exaggerated.

"_If it was you trying to convince me, you'd have less evidence and I would already believe you by now._"

Damn it! In all the time Ben had known Riley, he had never heard the younger man sound as genuine. There had been an air of earnestness in his eyes, on his face. This was what he had wanted, to break through that exterior and get a sense of who Riley really was. The kid had gone further than expected and worn his feelings on his sleeve and Ben had blown it, plain and simple. He had one, fleeting chance and he had blown it wide open. When he had replied with needing to confirm the information with Sadusky, Riley's wall had gone back up in record time and Ben could swear that the kid had added reinforcements in the form of steel bars. The earnestness in those sapphire eyes from his brief stint at playing know-it-all had snuffed out like a wind-blown flame and he hadn't said anything more on the matter. In fact, Riley hadn't said anything to anyone, aside from announcing that he wouldn't be able to join them back at Patrick's house. He had even declined Ben's offer of a ride home, saying that public transportation was perfectly fine. He didn't want to impose.

Ben hadn't meant the remark to be such an insult. He merely wanted to know the truth from someone on the inside before he continued to further subject everyone involved to a highly illegal and potentially dangerous circumstance. Lord knew it had been a rocky road, thus far, and their treasure-hunting competitor made Ian look like almost saintly.

However, he hadn't needed to be so blasé about everything like Riley's feelings hadn't mattered. They did. Ben couldn't even calculate how much this had set his overall effort back. He had a feeling he'd already walked backward over that precipice and now spiraled in a never-ending descent into the abyss.

Ben ran his hand through his thinning hair, mentally berating himself for his earlier lack of couth, and looked at his watch again. It wasn't too late to call Riley. The younger man wasn't known to be early to bed by any stretch as he claimed it threw his circadian rhythm off. Ben took his phone out of his blazer pocket and flipped it open. Just as instantly, he closed it, again.

No. He had to talk to Riley in person. If anything, it would make it harder for the younger man to blow him off, not that Ben didn't deserve such.

With that, he stood up, fishing his keys from his trouser pocket. Quietly, he left his father's house and went to his vehicle. He gently backed the SUV out of the driveway, so as not to wake everyone up, and drove to Riley's townhouse.

He parked on the street, in front of Riley's front door and killed the ignition. He spied the silhouette of the "For Sale" sign on the front lawn and frowned, unease of the inevitable gnawing at his mind. Riley hadn't said when he needed to find other living arrangements, but Ben suspected it was sometime very soon. When the time came for his friend to leave, where would he go? Would Riley stick around to see this latest exploit's end?

"If I don't get this straightened out, it will be a foregone conclusion," he resolved as he stepped out of the vehicle. He walked up to the front door and knocked, trying not to be so loud as to disturb the neighbors.

Nothing. Ben knocked again and frowned when he got the same result. Maybe Riley had actually turned in earlier than normal on account of being "sick." Ben waited a moment and turned to leave when he spied a flickering light out of the corner of his eye. He looked through the window and saw that Riley's large screen television was on.

Ben knocked on the door a third time and, this time, the door cracked open. Ben waited for Riley to poke his head out and ask him what he wanted, but no such thing occurred. Curious, Ben pushed the door open, only to find an empty entry hall. His concern piqued, he stepped inside.

"Riley?" he called as he shut the door behind him. Slowly, he walked into the living room and stopped dead as he crossed the threshold.

The television illuminated an absolute mess and that said a lot considering Riley's housekeeping skills needed work. Papers were strewn on the floor, haphazardly. The bookcase had been tipped on its front, the volumes spilled out and pinned underneath. As Ben ventured further into the room, something crunched under his shoe. He looked down to see glass fragments glittering in the dim light. They lay next to a broken frame that had held a picture of him and Riley, taken during the media aftermath of the Templar expedition.

"Riley!" Concern turned to outright fear and he began casing the rest of the house. He raced to the kitchen and flipped on the light. It was devoid of people and in a similar state of disarray. Dish and glass fragments littered the floor and a plastic container of granola cereal had been thrown against another wall. The top of the container had broken off. The trashcan had been overturned, its contents strewn. Ben spied a broom propped up in the far corner. He snagged it for a possible weapon. Even pathetic weapons were better than none at all.

He walked hurriedly up Riley's stairs to his bedroom. He flipped the switch on the wall to reveal another empty room. The bed was unmade and clothes littered it and the floor. However, Ben had difficulty discerning if this was the bedroom's normal appearance.

He turned off the light and turned to walk out of the bedroom when he smacked straight into someone or something he couldn't identify. The unknown entity screamed, Ben screamed and he brought the broom up, ready to smack it down on the unlucky soul who had dared to invade his friend's home. He stopped short when he finally focused on the unmistakable blue eyes staring in fear at him.

"Riley!" Ben dropped the broom on the floor. "Are you okay? Where the Hell were you? I called you twice!"

Riley's fear turned to incredulity as he clutched his chest. "Are you kidding?" he asked, breathlessly. "I was in the Goddamned bathroom! What's the big idea just walking into my house like that? You almost became a statistic!"

Ben looked down at Riley's other hand, which lay at his side. In it, he had been clutching a four-inch pocketknife. Ben swallowed, thickly as he looked back at his friend.

"I'm sorry. I knocked and the door opened by itself. I called to you and when I got no answer I started looking around. When I saw the mess in the living room, I thought-," he broke off and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Likewise," Riley replied looking equally shaky as he closed the switchblade and put it in his pocket. "That door latch has been tricky, lately. I need to get it fixed."

"How come you didn't hear me calling you?"

Riley fished in his pocket and pulled out a pair of earbuds, holding them up. "I was listening to tunes."

"In the bathroom," Ben mused. "Novel, indeed."

"Yeah, well the song ended and I heard someone's heavy footsteps outside the door. Seriously, Ben, don't ever do that to me again."

"Sorry," Ben replied and he gestured to Riley's pocket. "Since when do you carry a knife, anyway? I don't remember you having one before."

"No reason."

"Riley!"

Riley avoided eye contact, looking at his bedroom lamp, instead. "I was involved in a near mugging last year. The other guy got scared off before he could get or do anything, but I thought it would be a good idea to carry something in case it happened again. See, I lived to breathe another day. Satisfied, now? Can we move on with life?"

Ben looked at the younger man, astounded at the nonchalant confession. "So, when were you going to tell me about this?"

Riley leveled a glare at him. "Probably the same time you were going to tell me why you're traipsing through my house at one-thirty in the morning."

"Right." It was time to focus on why he'd come here in the first place. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Riley shrugged and he walked out of the room. Ben followed him downstairs. "Okay, I guess."

"Bullshit."

Riley turned, abruptly, at Ben's reply. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Ben, I was feeling under the weather and came home. How is that bullshit?"

"Because, in the time I've known you, you haven't suffered from a single allergy."

"Well, you of all people know how much it sucks to get old. Everything just starts going to Hell."

Ben bristled at the jab, but he let it go, exhaling the tension through his nose, instead. "I'm sorry about what happened, today."

"What happened, today, Ben?" It hadn't been an innocent question and Ben knew it. Riley's eyes blazed. The kid was testing him.

"I'm sorry about not reading your book."

"You and the other millions of people out there, no doubt. They'll come in droves any day now to offer their heartfelt regrets for not dropping $19.95 on my book." Riley turned to walk into his living room, flicking on the light as he did so. Ben was close on his heels and the younger man sighed.

"You know, I appreciate your concern, but this is awkward and potentially stalker-like on your part." Riley bent down to lift up the small bookcase back to an upright position. "I mean, you already have one strike against you for breaking into my house. Now, you're crowding me."

Ben stooped down to pick up a small stack of books and handed them to his friend. "You know, I do believe you about the President's secret book. I never meant to imply that I didn't. I know you wouldn't feed me information you knew to be erroneous, especially in this circumstance knowing what's at stake."

Riley didn't look at him as he accepted the books, but Ben could see his shoulders climb over his ears. "But?"

Ben sighed. "But, I want confirmation from the inside. Buckingham Palace was too close a call for my comfort as was the Library of Congress. Never mind that Mitch Wilkinson is a loose cannon. Who knows what he's capable of. I don't want to go into this blind, anymore. Maybe we'll have a better shot at pulling this off inconspicuously."

The younger man looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

"Then, you need to help us figure out the way we're going to do this. Are you still in?"

Riley shook his head. "I don't know how you ever became a treasure hunter without knowing how to navigate out of a paper bag. Listen, I've got this. Why don't you go home? I'll see you in the morning?"

Ben didn't want to go home. He still had a ton of questions for the young man, but Riley was obviously done talking. That was that and Ben knew it. "1 p.m. too early for you?"

"Just have a pot of coffee brewing. You might want to make one for yourselves while you're at it." A small smile crept on to Riley's face.

"Dually noted."

Riley's smile faded. "By the way, it might be better to call first next time you feel like being overprotective and case my house."

"Got it. Likewise, next time you're ticked off at me, you can let me know instead of trashing said house, so I don't think someone has broken in and killed you in some kind of botched home invasion."

Riley looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah," he muttered as he looked down at the floor. "Sorry for worrying you."

There was a pause. "Are you sure you don't need any help cleaning this up?"

"It's okay. Go home, Ben."

The tone of Riley's voice implied that Ben was perilously close to overstaying his welcome. On his way out, he stopped to pick up the broken picture frame. He handed it to Riley.

"We're still okay, right?"

Riley took the frame and frowned at it, looking a bit distant. "About as okay as we've ever been." The young man muttered the phrase so softly that Ben was unsure if he was actually speaking to him. Anyway, it was hardly reassuring.

"See you tomorrow, kid."

"Later, Ben."

Ben left, then. As he walked to his SUV, he risked a look through the window. Riley's back was to the window, but his head was bowed. As Riley turned toward the window, Ben could see that he was still staring at the photograph. However, his face bore a look, not of annoyance or contempt, but almost a sad longing for something that was and would never be again.

Ben turned away and walked to his vehicle before Riley could spot him lurking in the window. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he wondered how their friendship could be repaired if Riley didn't think it existed. The troubling thought followed Ben as he drove home and deprived him of sleep the rest of that night.


End file.
